Alternative Medicine
by Maevenly
Summary: Kara thinks outside the box to break her fever. LeeKara playfulness


**Alternative Medicine**

One stack down, twenty million to go.

At least, that was the thought that went with placing another report in the 'Done' pile and looking at the remaining nineteen million pieces of paper waiting to be sifted, processed and filed for a bureaucracy that no longer existed.

Drawing a deep, calming breath had nothing to do with the Writer's Cramp that was making his fingers ache.

It had everything to do with the wadded up tissue that skidded across the right hand side of the desktop.

Ignoring the two others that had already landed inches from his left hand, he picked up where he left off reading and started a fresh page of notes. At least, that was the plan. Until another blue-tinged wad sailed in his direction. Keeping his eyes on his paperwork, the determination to stay unfazed crumbled as he bristled slightly in his seat.

Tightening the grip on his pen, he got three lines into deciphering whatever frakking shorthand the Quartermaster was using when another tissue-bomb was lobbed in his direction. This time, it glanced off his knuckles before skidding to a stop.

Tapping his toes against the bottom rung of his chair, he set in to re-read the same paragraph – what was that about the remaining lengths of thread left for use? – for the third time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pale hand reach for the tissue box just before he heard the sound of another tissue being tugged out of its box.

"Don't even think about it." He didn't raise his eyes off his paper to issue his warning.

"Don't think about what?" Deliberately being vague, he could practically hear her roll her eyes at him.

This time, the balled up tissue landed dead centre between where he held the report and where his waist abutted his desk.

"It's not like they're dirty or anything."

Frak her and her frakking aim. Though to tell the truth, a hint of amusement pulled at the smallest muscle in the corner of his jaw.

"How can you just sit there, doing paperwork?"

"Well, some of us have work to do and don't have the privilege of getting a note from the school nurse to get us out of going to class or doing our homework." Lee offered one explanation. It was the one sentence that contained the least amount of sarcasm and zero expletives.

"Hey, don't blame me for getting sick. Go talk to Coughs, Spits and Sneezes. He's the one who got me sick." A blithe hand wave didn't hide the fact that another tissue was pulled out of the box. This time, she used it to cover her mouth as the sound of a deep cough carried across the room.

"He has a name, you know. You should know, you gave it to him." Lee attempted to appeal to her more professional side.

"Yeah, I did; a first, middle and last name. Cough, Spits, Sneezes," she emphasized, making her point clear as to exactly how she had been grounded for the past week due to a cold that quickly developed into bronchitis.

"Listen, he feels bad enough as it is without you rubbing it in every chance you get. That's why Constanza took all your CAP's without having to be asked." Lee needed her to go lighter on the younger pilot. Not that he minded it when people stopped him in the corridors to ask him how his girlfriend was, because if the truth be told, he liked how people said to him, 'your girlfriend'. His. No one else's. But Hot Dog asking him if Kara still blamed him for getting her sick was getting old, really fast. Not to mention that every time he asked, Constanza looked more and more worried the longer Starbuck was kept out of her cockpit.

"There are two reasons behind Hot Dog doing that," the creak of springs could barely be heard when Kara lifted her head from where she was stretched out on his couch. Knowing she was only getting an eye full of the top of his head only made her sound more cynical as she convicted her former Nugget, "Self preservation and sucking up to the boss."

That got Lee to finally look up from what he was doing and match her gaze for gaze.

"Kara – the kid thinks you're going to spike his food, drag him – naked – through the ship until you reach the Mess Hall, tie his naked ass to one of the tables and leave him there – face up – with a note that reads: 'Breakfast Is Served'."

"Which won't go very far, let me tell ya," Kara muttered under her breath. Seeing his look of admonishment didn't help Hot Dog because she added, "Hey, it's not like he needs a full-sized towel when showering or anything."

"Kara…" Lee fired off a rather pointed look as a wry grin split her face. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"What that means, Mr. Adama, is that your ittie-bittie towel is there for the edification of the female population. Letting them get a peek at your – how shall I say this? – 'barely hidden talents' is the reason why men like Constanza have dates when they go to the Observation Deck. It sparks our imaginations enough to overlook certain – shortcomings? – that afflicts a significant portion of the male population." Quirking her eyebrow at the word 'shortcomings' clarified exactly why Constanza didn't need a regular sized bath towel.

"Thanks – I think. Now that you've successfully gotten my attention, do you mind? I have a lot of work to do and you have some 'getting better' to do." Lee shook the paper that never left his hand to get his point across even as he heard her humph and slouch back against the cushions. "Hey – you're the one who was getting cabin fever and promised that you'd rest if I agreed to take you to work with me."

An exasperated eye-roll told him exactly what he could do with his last sentence. A body-curling sneeze from her made sure he got the last word.

Frak – like he could concentrate on an inventory report now. The purr that resonated under the words 'hidden talents' hit him squarely between the hips. Like he needed to be reminded that it had been a week since he'd been able to utilize his 'talents'. Was it wrong to focus on the way Kara's breasts bounced as she was coughing when he initially made her go to sickbay to get checked out? Or thinking that the way her thin hospital gown swayed around her hips was enticing, knowing that there was only a pair of those well-worn panties he could not get enough of underneath Cottle's version of Everyday Wear?

Hearing her blow her nose even as she reached for a spare tissue didn't curb his thoughts. Thinking about her nose led to thinking about her mouth. Thinking about her mouth led to thinking about her eyes. Thinking about her eyes led to remembering how she looks when her nose bumps against his lower stomach as her mouth forms a perfect… This _is not thinking about paperwork that needs to be accomplished_, he firmly reminded himself.

Resettling his shoulders didn't do anything for his discomfort but the fact that his legs were tucked underneath his desk was a Gods-send. If Kara caught one whiff… Thinking about how Kara smelled only made him sit straighter in his chair as to take as much pressure off his lap as possible.

Another balled up tissue sailed across the room and this time it hit him right between the eyes before landing on the desk. Picking it up, he scowled at Kara's attempt to make him pay attention to her as he turned it over with his fingers and dropped it the trash. It was damp.

"Kara…" Her name rumbled in his chest even as he kept his head tilted down and focused on his paperwork. "That was gross!"

"You'll eat those words, Flyboy," Kara countered.

"You and with what squadron, Kara?" Lee muttered under his breath even as another tissue, just as damp as the first, sailed his way. Catching it in mid-flight just as it entered his peripheral vision, the temptation to squeeze it rose even as he dropped it in the trash.

Putting aside the Quartermaster's report and picking up the minutes from the last Presidential meeting, Lee rubbed his face and tried to ignore the fact that there was an unbelievably frakkable blonde lying ten feet away on a couch that held as many illicit memories as the prudently equipped storage locker on D Deck.

What was that he saying about one whiff of Kara?

Now he was really losing his mind.

One week without hearing her pant his name in time to his thrusts and now he was convinced that he could smell her. That fabulous, unique-unto-Kara smell that made him bury his face, open his mouth and inhale deeply every time his tongue slid out between his lips.

Bringing his hands up to run through his hair, another waft of Kara-ness flowed into his nose. Instinctively bringing his hand to his nose, he took a good, long pull. It was Kara, and it certainly wasn't a week old.

It took all of two seconds to put it together.

_The tissues she had lobbed at him_.

A wicked smile stifled at the thought of what she did while he was reading about how many yards of thread were left on the ship had him thinking specifically about the last two wads of thin, soft, absorbent paper she so expertly tossed in his direction.

Making a show of shuffling his stacks of papers, he let out a long sigh that he didn't mean. But she didn't need to know that. If anything, it looked like she had given up – her arm was thrown over her eyes and her body was completely relaxed.

Walking over to the couch and perching on the edge, it was a second before she lifted her arm enough to reveal her eyes. Apparently she was as good at pretending to be asleep as he was at doing paperwork.

"So, I take it you are feeling better?" He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead as if to gauge her temperature but with a flick of his wrist, it became a caress with which she snuggled the curve of her cheek into his palm.

"Modern medicine is all well and good, but I'm thinking that we should try a little home-remedy." She used that purr that was evocative as the way her name rumbled from his chest.

"Really, now? I'm all ears, Kara." Lee murmured as he shifted from sitting beside her to straddling her hips with his knees and leaning over her so that his mouth hovered just inched above hers. One of his hands moved to trap both her wrists above her head.

"I can tell." A knowing smirk spread a tinge of pink across her cheeks. "How does that saying go, Lee?"

"Feed a fever, starve a cold?" Lee felt her cool hands slip underneath his tanks even as he dredged up the old saying.

"Something like that," Kara purred as she lifted her hips to brush against material of his trousers.

Dropping his forehead to her brow, some small part of him registered that the antibiotics Cottle prescribed several days ago would've gotten her through the worst of her illness. The bigger part of him now had a way to assuage the feelings of helplessness that came from seeing someone he loved be sick and an outlet for the frustrations that came from not being able to do anything about it.

"Hungry, Kara?" His voice rippled with innuendo.

"Starving – famished, actually." Craning her neck, she latched onto the pulse point at the base of his neck and drew the tender skin deeply between her teeth. Mumbling around the warm Lee-flesh suctioned between her lips, "Feel like I haven't eaten in a week…"

Pulling away from her, he looked down at a pair of bright green eyes. Truly wicked intentions flared as he took his turn to grind against her curves. There was no end for the appetites they had for each other.

"Just remember these two rules, Kara. Eat everything I put in front of you and be prepared to for seconds on everything." Lowering his face to her neck, he traced her vein to the whorl of her ear before snagging her lobe and rolling it between his firmed lips.

Stretching tautly, using his grip on her wrists for leverage, he heard her draw a ragged breath over her teeth as she agreed to his sensual challenge even as she issued one of her own.

"Be prepared to keep everything good and hot, Adama. I like to savour my courses."

Fin.

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